Woundup

Stay tuned

2010-02-04T15:41:00.001-06:00

Keeping this site alive. Something new in the works elsewhere.

Zwolfkinder

2009-06-23T09:53:00.008-05:00

Summer is finally here — not that I couldn't wait. I don't like the heat. I was happy when it was 60 degrees and raining a week ago. As time's gone on, I've come to believe what we had earlier in June is my ideal kind of weather — a vestigial preference from my Northern European ancestors.

Whatever. It's going to be hot today. Erika is watching Ella solo. We have two very effective ACs in the house, but I hope she can get out a little so she won't feel cooped up. She's doing a great thing, watching the baby by herself. I wish I could be there to help her right now.

Our baby is a wonderful little person who grows more and more each day. As she matures and exhibits more autonomous behavior, I feel a growing need to shield and shelter her, making her existence as pleasant as possible — the childhood cocoon we've all seen manifested in toy stores, amusement parks, on TV. A place with no unhappiness and total wonder, where each day, each minute is one of joy and excitement. The kind of excitement she shows when she wakes up in the morning.

My, is it me or was that a cold assessment of a carefree state? That's what you get here at Woundup: cold assessments. Well, anything to push that mercury back away from 90.

Woundup will never die

2009-06-17T11:36:00.007-05:00

Man, it's dusty in here. Time to clean off the cobweb-covered keyboards. The seven-person content team is on their annual summer retreat — this time to some dump in the UP. Normally they go to Mexico, but you know … These Tough Economic Times. … I'm sure they've got a lot (of reefer) to (smoke) talk about up there.

The Woundup family had fun in Wisconsin, and we are gearing up for our weekend's visit to Michigan, the fourth partner in the new pan-Chicago Geographical Zone. That's right, southwest Mich. is officially a part of Chicagoland because one little county, where our hideaway lies, now is included on the Channel 9 weather forecast map.

Ella still is a little too small to ride on a bike or in a bike trailer — one of our favorite pastimes in Mich. Perhaps on the next visit. Ella, however, is rapidly advancing in the eating/drinking department. Mom fed her lentil soup last night, and she can now drink out of a glass, which is a lot of fun to watch.

Lunch beckons. Woundup breathes deeply. … The afternoon is a blank canvas of (sleeping under my desk) all possibilities.

Visibility 1500 feet. That's the Mars Cheese Castle on our left, sir.

2009-06-11T12:33:00.006-05:00

We must be on summer hours here at WoundUp Corp. Actually, we truly are. Fridays are off mandatory, comrade. No questions.

Still, this is one of the busiest non-busy weeks I've ever had at the ol' Cracker Factory. What does that mean? Well, I suppose it means having the most amount of work possible that still does not cross the bar set by a normal fall/spring work week when we actually have issues of the magazine going out. I guess you could call it garbage time. And let me say that I'm a garbage time all-star.

Tomorrow we head north through the 58-degree mist to Green Bay to visit my parents and youngest brother. We'll be bringing Ella with us, and that will make them very happy. Ella has been a little more rambunctious lately, so much so that she kept waking up last night. This baby thing is a trip because when you think you've got a pattern set, they change it up on you. Well, that makes life more interesting, no?

All in a day's work. I'm going to get some M&M's. Talk to you next week!

Reset button

2009-06-04T09:50:00.003-05:00

Wow, a two-week break here at Woundup Corp. It was our early summer furlough. But now we're back. Last week's playwriting conference was a blast. I'm sorry it had to end in some ways, but I'm very happy to again be with my family. The weather in Chicago is mellow and bright, and we have plans to visit Green Bay and our little Michigan hideaway very, very soon.

Now is the time, June, to ready and launch the next marketing campaign. I've almost got the synopsis for the new play polished off — never an enjoyable task. Soon I'll be spending a lot of time at the Fort Dearborn Post Office. I'm happy because we've drifted apart these last three months.

Speaking of furloughs, we're into our summer slate of forced three-day weekends here at the Cracker Factory. Not all that bad, as the salary hit is negligible and they're encouraging us — imploring us — not to even look at our work e-mail. Fine by me. I'll be taking care of the baby solo tomorrow, which I love to do. We'll have some fun.

Welcome back, Woundup! Welcome back, Woundup fans!

Wandering

2009-05-21T12:36:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow afternoon I'm heading out of town to a playwrights conference in Omaha. I'll be gone for nine days. I'm excited about the opportunity, but I'm really, really going to miss Erika and Ella. At least I'll be able to talk to them on the phone.

This is a kind of symbolic last event of the spring — and what a crazy spring it's been. I hope the rest of the year calms down and people without employment can find it again. America needs a break, in general.

I should be posting from the road. I'll let you all know how it's going.

Outlaster

2009-05-20T14:30:00.005-05:00

I finished my third play today. I started it last June. As I've said before in other posts, I've experienced many more changes and ups and downs during the writing of this play than with the last two. I know some of that went into it over the course of things.

What's left to do? Relax for a month. I'll probably work on some marketing materials next week, but for now I'm going to crack open a cold one and toast this play. It's earned its place at the table.

Monday night

2009-05-18T16:02:00.002-05:00

Phhheeewww … The high tide of work stress has receded. Tonight I'm going to format-check my new play, drink beer and watch the "Gossip Girl" finale with the ladies. Hold my calls.

Lay down your sword, noble warrior

2009-05-13T09:52:00.003-05:00

This month I retired my second play from active submission. My MO is that after a year passes, I stop. I've done about all I can do to let people know it exists. This play, in turn, has performed heroically on the field of marketing combat. I only hope someone takes a real chance on it soon.

I've almost wrapped up my third play — probably by early next week. I look forward to seeing how it will do in Das Grinder. I'm not a great talk-talk salesman. Who knows. Maybe it won't matter.

Rest

2009-05-11T13:10:00.004-05:00

My Grandmother died a week ago. She was 95 and had developed lung cancer in the last year. Erika, Ella and I saw her some 12 hours before she passed away. The thought of her being relieved of that kind of suffering made the loss a little easier to swallow, but still I'd rather have her here, healthy and forever. As we all know, that can't be done.

There was a memorial service at a South Side cemetery on Saturday. Many of her friends are gone, too, and many of our relatives — already a small group — were out of town and couldn't make it. Still, I was happy to see who I saw. We all agreed that Grandma was a great lady.

Since I moved back to Chicagoland in 2002, I had helped Grandma with her finances, bringing cash once a month for her home health care worker to buy groceries, etc. — but more so to spend time with Grandma. I also called her once a week. I really enjoyed speaking with her, and we shared experiences as Chicago residents, homeowners and baseball fans that I didn't with the rest of my family.

She was my last remaining grandparent and the living link to a part of my life that now only exists in my memory. At least I can keep her there. Sundays will never be the same. Goodbye, Grandma. I miss you.

Raining

2009-04-27T21:32:00.004-05:00

Today everyone at the Cracker Factory was forcibly given a pay cut. It applies to about two weeks of work days spread out over the three months of the summer. The good news is that I'll now have a bunch of Fridays to spend with the baby and take three-day weekend trips. The bad news is, well, that's pretty obvious, but it's not crippling, and Erika is gainfully employed, too.

The refrain for these times has been "At least you still have a job." I'm getting sick of hearing that, as they chop off more pieces of us, week by week. Now's probably the time for a good Karl Marx quote about worker exploitation, but that's too much effort to dig it up right now. I'm tired. We still have to sail on through this week, patching up all the holes they punched in our ship.

I'm pretty sick of talking about work, so I'll stop. What I'd really like to do right now is get a drink at the bar at the Chicago Yacht Club and stare drunkenly at the nautical maps on the walls. Or better yet, I'd like to get a drink with Charles Barkley. Can someone make that happen?

No? Well ... I'll settle for comics in bed. However, I don't have anything to read on the bus tomorrow. Maybe I should go with Karl Marx. Or the Marlene Dietrich story, which I actually own. Yes. I don't know. … It's time to go to bed.

Never relent (circa 2009)

2009-04-23T14:27:00.005-05:00

Tomorrow begins Painful Writing Ordeal 3.0. This play has gone through more rough waters than the two before it, and still it has persevered. Reading back parts of the last revision, I've begun to develop an affection for it hitherto absent. In my own personal awards ceremony, I will give it a medal of honor.

I've also begun to realize that I'm soon going to toss another virgin play into the maw of the Theatrical Industrial Complex — a machine mostly indifferent to new work. It doesn't help I have a writing style the majority of its officers seem unmoved by.

I'll run this poor play through the gauntlet, and if it, too, does not win a full production by next fall, I will have to consider other options. Wearily I wince, knowing that means self-production. I see how others in my shoes have done it, and perhaps I will have to follow them. I'd rather just write these things and have someone else take care of it. But that someone may not be in existence.

All I can do at this moment is apply massive heat and pressure to the last draft until it is a finished piece. Though it's painful, I enjoy this process, and I honor that thing its creates. To me, that thing is unassailable.

Three things

2009-04-20T11:41:00.007-05:00

1. The rough seas at work now are calm. And as I look out from a 23rd-floor perch at the great Lake Michigan, I'm filled again with a desire to steal away to our favorite vacation spot. I have some new schedule leeway, so getting there will be even easier this spring. … Two years ago we went for the very first time, and when we go next it will be Ella's first. I'd love to move there — sometime in the next 10 years but hopefully sooner.

2. I've become obsessed with the English Civil War. I think seeing "Cromwell" on TCM in Iowa earlier this month got me pumped up. I believe this was the first time in history (let me say "European history") a regent was overthrown for an alternative form of government. It certainly set a tone for the next three centuries.

3. I don't really have a third. Uh. Lunchtime's almost here: leftover BBQ seitan, roasted vegetables and mashed potatoes. I eat like a king (or a Rump Parliamentarian).

Job rap

2009-04-17T13:09:00.004-05:00

What a week at the Cracker Factory. It started out mellow but harshed by Wednesday morning. Now, well, I guess it's almost over. We've had a lot of people leave here, a lot of organizational shock-waves and still no clear structure in the aftermath. I guess the same could be said for many (most?) businesses across the country. Dad just needs to keep his head in the game, though understandably it can be hard. Some of this static was externally applied, but two problems were of my own creation, based on snap decisions. I need to better question my choices before I make them. (How about that for job commitment?)

Seriously though, I do take pride in my work here. I know it's not my life's work, but I'd like to think I do it well and help those I'm in with. Recent circumstances have made it a bit harder for all of us to truly take as much time as we'd like on all of our tasks. I only hope that by year's end we'll get some kind of relief.

Of course, I don't ever have it as tough as Erika, who had to go on a field trip to Champaign this morning against the wishes of her boss. She'll get back by 10 p.m. tonight. I cannot wait for the weekend to start. I plan on spending it exclusively with my wife and baby. It makes me very happy to know we'll all be together at this time tomorrow. Hang in there, Woundup.

His jumper's like a Pound Canto

2009-04-14T10:53:00.007-05:00

Hmm … Scanning the headlines here. … Something to write about. … Well, I was reading from the newest issue of SI with Ella — one of my favorite things to do with her right now — and I was struck by the erudition of the Houston Rockets supporting cast, as evidenced in the feature about Ron Artest. Brent Barry used the word "idiosyncrasies" and Shane Battier made a James Joyce reference. Once in awhile you'll get one cultured nugget in a sports story, but two? This piece really raised the bar for years to come.

Of course, Ron Artest remains a bit of an idiot savant. Great player and maybe he's mellowing out, but he'll always be remembered for … well … you know.

Walking the line

2009-04-11T23:17:00.009-05:00

When curling comes on the TV is it instantly time for another beer, no matter what time of day? Truly one of the toughest questions that confronts humankind. I'll say no, though it's tempting.

I've been indulging myself with the ol' converter box tonight, nearly overdosing on WTTW Prime big blocks of documentaries. Now I've turned to the 24-hour NBC winter sports channel and here the grand game is. There's one beer in the fridge. Ah, but it's too late. Erika, Ella and Suzi are getting in after 9 tomorrow morning from Florida. (Wait, the French play this game, too?) I don't think I should tempt fate. What I should do is TURN OFF THE TV.

Well, not just yet. SNL, Antiques Roadshow, Burt Wolf. Did you know Burt Wolf has a Cedar Rapids P.O. box? I think that's the most interesting thing I've learned all day. See, that's the line I walk: between sound mental health and television-induced temporary insanity. … It's probably time for bed. Yes.

P. Allen Smith's Garden Home.

Fade away

2009-04-09T19:04:00.006-05:00

Wow, Ken Burns' "The Civil War" is nearly 20 years old. I remember very distinctly watching it with my family when I was 14 years old. They're showing it now on the new WTTW Prime on the converter box.

I loved "Baseball" and "Jazz," but I believe this documentary is Burns' best. And how good is Shelby Foote? When Foote says the bit about the North fighting with one hand behind its back? It feels tremendously anti-climactic at first, but he has such a understated way of conveying Southern resignation to their loss you feel bad for the Confederacy, if just for a few seconds.

Tonight is 1865 and the end of the war. Burns has footage of the remaining vets marching in the 1920s as old men. Seeing my own grandmother now at the end of her life at 95, the idea of "living memory" is a powerful one, as links to the distant past leave us. I feel for people in these positions, who daily lose those they could truly reminisce with, unable to fully convey what they've seen to a world that can never fully understand it.

Rebels are we, born to be free

2009-04-07T12:37:00.005-05:00

Back in Chicago, the sun is shining, and though it's a bit busy at work, a great deal is now behind me and I'm breathing easy. The residency at the college last week went really well, and I was very happy with the staged reading they did. I'd like to bring some of those people to Chicago if anyone ever doubles down on this play. We'll see.

Erika has the week off, so she's enjoying it at home and out and about with Ella. Tomorrow, the two of them are flying down to Ft. Lauderdale with Suzie, whose mom has a time share there. Dad will be left home alone. … Sniff … I've got a great picture of Ella by my desk at the New Cracker Factory, and it really captures who she is. When I look at it now, I wish she were here. It's going to be tough to be apart for nearly five days. I expect they'll find me in my underwear covered in Thai takeout boxes and the hard ends of pierogies, the TV on, Okocim empties all about. It's not going to be pretty.

Well, if I rent "Bananas," I'll probably make it thru the week. Yes, that sounds like a plan. Let's make it happen.

He do the police in different voices

2009-03-30T11:08:00.011-05:00

This accursed month's almost over, my friend. I'm looking forward to adventure in April and … mirth-making? in May. Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. April, after all, is the cruelest month — in terms of having to do your taxes. Wait. Maybe that's not what he meant. Dammit.

All kidding aside, I've won a playwriting award sponsored by a college in Iowa, and I will go there later this week as part of a short residency, which culminates with a staged reading of my most recent play. That play has served me well, and I'd really love it if it could get a god's-honest, real-life production in 2009-2010. We'll see. In the meantime, I will enjoy this opportunity. I was a little shocked it came long, but … "enjoy when you can" …

There's another accolade coming my way in May, but like I said, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Mazel tov.

To mein readers

2009-03-27T13:37:00.006-05:00

Well, at the end of a long week I suppose I should put in an appearance. What a week it's been. I found out, officially, that I'll be keeping my job here at the New Cracker Factory. We've also had both my mother and Erika's mom staying with us to help with baby care. Now I'm looking forward to some peace and quiet this weekend — just me, mom and baby.

March is almost over. One of the roughest months I've ever gotten through — although February might've been rougher. I'm thankful, though, for having family to help us and for gainful employment. And, of course, for our beautiful baby, who is getting bigger every day. It's pretty amazing to witness first-hand.

Next week I get to do some special writing stuff. I'll fill you in then. Have a good weekend.

Have you seen the inside of Tacitus's vomitorium?

2009-03-24T10:06:00.005-05:00

I've staged a complete recovery from last week's food poisoning. It's good to be able to eat, say, fresh mozzarella that was sitting out a little in its own water, or bagged lettuce getting brown around the edges, or a room-temperate cheesy-bean-and-rice burrito from Taco Bell (with hot sauce) or week-old hummus. Yes, all the things I love.

I think this WeBLoG needs some direction, don't you? Getting a little aimless as the weather warms. That's really because the seven-person content team all went on a spring break–style vacation to the official Woundup resort property in Tutacahana, Mexico. There are going to be some workshops, but we really know it's just an excuse to try and score cheap cocaine and maybe act depraved a bit before coming back home, feeling guilty and recommitting to the gym and sobriety (for a couple of weeks). God bless the liberal arts.

Time for a wilted-lettuce and room-temperature sour cream taco.

Thank you, converter box

2009-03-19T17:03:00.001-05:00

Zelig is on 26.4 right now. This thing just paid for itself.

I cry, I throw up, I cry again

2009-03-19T11:31:00.005-05:00

Another baseball season is nearly upon us. Remember the Cubs' "super rotation" of 2004? Unfortunately, I do.

The many moods

2009-03-17T11:47:00.004-05:00

Mommy took pictures yesterday of Ella at the Lincoln Park Zoo. I think this one sums things up best.

Take a number

2009-03-13T11:41:00.007-05:00

The line at the great automat in the sky is really backing up: Harold Pinter, David Foster Wallace, John Updike, Horton Foote and now James Purdy.

I first heard of Purdy in a New York Times article about Raymond Carver's break with Gordon Lish. D.T. Max said Lish was influenced in his editing of Carver by Purdy's spare style. Not long after that I picked up "Malcolm" (which was adapted for the stage by Edward Albee). I can't say I thought it was great, but he certainly knows how to depict the fringe, and I kept thinking of "Fur" as I read it.

Well, I think I'll give him another shot. R.I.P.

Ghost town downtown

2009-03-13T02:06:00.006-05:00

It's been a rough month at the ol' Cracker Factory. My immediate supervisor recently was struck down as part of budget-related layoffs. We were shocked because he's a 13-year veteran of the company. That's a lot of experience to let walk out the door, but it's happening nonetheless. At least we're sending him off in style tonight after work, though I still can't believe it.

Who does that leave? Me, the budget option. There still might be more cuts in our group, but my editor seems to think they'll happen elsewhere. Who knows. It all makes me question my choice of career. Sure, the economy eventually will swing back, but what about print journalism (read: print advertising)? Thankfully, I've gotten my share of Web experience in this gig. That's the direction it's all going.

Here's to hoping the rest of month moves by quickly and without incident — and that terminated positions everywhere are recreated soon.

It's new to me-uh

2009-03-10T18:48:00.001-05:00

Damn, this new Fall record sounds kind of like Men's Recovery Project in places. Some rough earlier Providence stuff like Thee Hydrogen Terrors. I think I might have to buy it. If I can survive March unscathed, I'll treat myself.

In like a lion

2009-03-05T07:01:00.003-06:00

If there's only one positive thing I should remember at the start of this day, it's that it's going to be warm outside. And I will be back in this spot in 12 hours, alive. All bets are off about everything else.

Another day in the Protectorate

2009-03-03T11:39:00.004-06:00

Another day, another trip to the Daley Center to attempt to get copies of Ella's birth certificate. I like to laugh at everyone I know who lives in suburbs and small towns, but this is one area where they have the advantage. I'm willfully entering the record-collecting center for Cook County, Ill., which encompasses more than 5 million people. There's going to be a line no matter when you go.

I got scared off Friday by the wait. I tried to go yesterday, but the building was closed for Illinois' favorite celebration: Casimir Pulaski Day. Today, I will not relent. I only wish I had an iPhone, so I can read more Brit history on Wikipedia. It's always a good time to revisit the English Civil War. Wish me luck.

Daddy's on the drink again

2009-02-27T10:18:00.004-06:00

Now that we have a converter box and get WYCC without static, one question has dominated my mind more than any other: How could one country (Canada) produce both the funniest TV show of all time ("The Kids in the Hall") and the un-funniest TV show of all time ("The Red Green Show")?

Still, I think I'd hang out at the Possum Lodge if I had the chance.

Wild weekend

2009-02-27T09:51:00.005-06:00

Actually, I don't want to have a wild weekend (but I would like my Teengenerate records back). A bit of peace and quiet is more preferred.

It's already been quite a week in the world of current events, with all the national budget stuff flying fastly and furiously. Also, Norm Van Lier and Johnny "Red" Kerr both died yesterday a la Adams/Jefferson. Bulls fans, such as myself, will miss them. I've sung the praises before of Norm's pre-game raps on WMVP, and things just didn't seem right when they took Red off the air at the start of this season.

I remember a few years ago standing in the bar at Schuba's before a show, watching the Pistons play some East Coast team. I was next to a young guy who was rooting for the Pistons, and somehow we got to talking. "I've always hated the Pistons," I told him. "I've always hated the Bulls," he said. It made me really happy to hear him say that. I don't know what this illustrates except that being a Bulls fan is wonderful because of the rivalries and tradition. Red and Norm were a big part of that.

In other news, they're closing the Borders on Michigan. If that wasn't a wildly successful book store, I really don't know what to think anymore.

Moving toward morning

2009-02-23T09:29:00.006-06:00

Dad maybe had a little too much wine at the upstairs Oscar party last night. Dad is me now, of course. Mom was much more sensible, and baby, who was wearing her first pink dress, fell asleep at some point before Best Song.

So, I'm snake-bitten this morning, but that's okay because I survived. I survived a layoff scare on Friday. And I guess I've survived the winter, which seems to be coming to a close.

Since taking this job more than two years ago, I've experienced some acute moments of disbelief following events I've drummed up massively in my head as world-altering. You mean life continues after I: get a new job, have a reading, buy a house, have a baby? It does. It goes on after layoff scares and winter, too. The fact that the sun is out today makes this "after" time seem that much more new/different — makes it feel like we're moving toward morning. I can't yet imagine warm weather and working in the garden, but sure enough that will soon be here.

Unless, I'm hit by a bus. But don't worry. That's not going to happen.

Albatrossing

2009-02-17T22:25:00.008-06:00

It becomes pretty clear by age 32 that there are two types of people in life: helpers and hindrances. Granted, if you're some kind of international terrorist who's looking to blow up the Horseshoe Casino in Hammond, Ind., (search engine teaser) and the "hindrances" are those trying to stop you and the "helpers" are your abettors, well, then that might knock the whole model out of whack. But generally, you can expect certain people to be quick with a smile, a kind word or helping hand and others to be self-centered emotional/spiritual drains.

It doesn't always shake out so easily, yes. Even the best of friends who would help each other to the end don't always agree and can get in each other's way. I guess I'm talking about consistency — for good or bad. My boss at my first job here in Chicago told me to view my function as a gate through which information flowed freely and easily. Those who had performed the position badly, he said, were more like big rocks that information flowed around — obstacles.

Erika spent some of her day dealing with such obstacles out in the suburbs. I ask you to keep her step-father, John — a good man who has helped us so much with this house — in your thoughts and prayers as he prepares for a major surgery. There are some who didn't quite grasp the gravity of this situation, preferring to attempt to wrestle the spotlight for themselves in some perverse manner. It saddens and angers me that Erika had to spend even one second today dealing with these kind of people — hindrances.

Maybe this is more succinct: It's not always about you. When someone's life is in danger, don't be a fucking dickhead. Grow up. … Yes, I think that'll work for 11 p.m.

Welcome, Ella

2009-02-09T18:21:00.002-06:00

It's over — the pregnancy, that is. Erika gave birth last Wednesday, February 4, at 9:40 p.m. to our daughter, Ella Rose. She was 7 lbs. 6 oz. and 20.5" at birth. We stayed a couple of nights at the hospital then came home Friday afternoon.

I took a week off work and have to go back Thursday. I'm dreading it, not because of any waiting backlog, but because I won't be able to be around Ella all day. These last three days have been fantastic. The birth was fantastic, too. I'm just going to enjoy this remaining time and remember that I'll get to see her in the evenings and all weekend. I am also going to look into work-from-home options. Even one day a week would be great.

It was a little hard to believe Erika wasn't pregnant anymore the first couple of days after Ella's birth. We first found out June 1, 2008, and we've been through a lot together in that long time, about 10 months. I feel it brought us even closer, and I will always look back on it very fondly. Of course, I'm glad Erika doesn't have to tote that weight anymore, doesn't have heartburn, doesn't have to pee a million times a night …

So what's next? An adjustment for ol' Woundup. Don't worry. You can check back here for baby updates as well as all the laffs you've come to love. Ella might even provide some new material. She's got a lot of personality.

Super-burned

2009-02-02T18:39:00.016-06:00

This might be the most burned out on sports I've been in recent memory. Granted, I was pulling for the Cards, so that probably made me even more reluctant to read the game wrap-ups and usual laudatory afterbirth passing through the Web canal. But a greater sense of football weariness is definitely there, Steelers victory or not. Two weeks ago I was lamenting the quick passing of pigskin season. Now I'm fanning myself, a cold compress on my forehead, glad to see it go.

More and more, I think that postseasons are becoming less significant, even anticlimactic, because more time is spent in the 24/7 sports journo universe hyper-analyzing what's already happened and trying to predict what's yet to happen, squeezing out the here and now. When an actual game occurs, it often seems lumpy and imperfect — even boring — given the propaganda surrounding it. Plus, with another week of matches on the horizon, analysts quickly sail off toward what surely, positively will be football perfection next time.

Applied to a full season, it seems network talking heads can't wait for things to end before they can begin next year's predictions. And with 31 of 32 teams out of luck, more viewers have experienced losing seasons and very much want to hear about the future: the draft, the new schedule, off-season concerns. Media coverage feeds into this, so much so that, lately, the actual outcomes of games and seasons seem more inconsequential or, worse, unscripted. With so much energy devoted to speculation about what should/could happen, when that doesn't happen, it seems we've been slighted in some way — at least in the eyes of experts who lament that "the better team lost" or "it's all about who gets hot late." (Conversely, you could celebrate the fact that life rarely goes according to script — and if it did, what a terribly bland life it would be.)

There also is a recent tendency in 24/7 sport culture to immediately crown a just-played championship game "the greatest ever" or a play in that game "the greatest play ever" less than a day after it's occurred. It happened last year with David Tyree and this year with Santonio Holmes. It's almost as if the networks feel their lavish coverage (witness NBC's this year) automatically equals a historic game. "Greatest" talk is admittedly good grist for the mill because it generates strong discussion, but history is something that shakes out over time, and these instant coronations seem to cheapen championships even further, they're applied so liberally.

Well, I'm looking forward to using February to heal up from football overload. I might peek at the NBA and college basketball a little, but I won't strain myself. Maybe there's a reason football season is so brief. For the players, it's because their bodies can't take any more punishment. For the fans, it's because we can't take any more publicity. Phew.

Rent-a-fan

2009-02-02T11:06:00.004-06:00

It turned into a bit of a beery weekend, on my part at least. After the reading Friday evening and last night's Super Bowl, I'm ready for a brew break. I was compelled at the Super Bowl gathering, naturally after drinking, to make my opinions on football loudly known to all in attendance, none of whom were football fans. I snarled, grimaced and frequently flipped off the TV screen. I hope it was at least entertaining. I promise to behave better next year.

Now what? A new week, a new month. More of the same and some things never before seen.

White wine did him in

2009-01-30T15:31:00.003-06:00

Just when your faith in humanity … ah, I'm not even going to finish that. It's been a heckuva week. First there's the Super Bowl. Okay, it hasn't happened yet and it's not actually the most important … My second play got the nod for a main-stage reading at a national conference. But what's better is that my co-workers threw me a dad-only shower today, complete with cupcakes, brownies and prosecco Yes, I'm buzzed and dammit, it feels great. Humanity's best on display. Just like the scrappy Arizona Cardinals … Better stop there.

And … some good friends are going to oblige me tonight by reading the most recent draft of my third play. I'm buying hoppy beer for the occasion. Hey, I haven't had a drink all week, folks. LET'S FZRKLING CELEBRATE!!!

Aftermath

2009-01-28T09:44:00.007-06:00

Man, it's cold in here. I need to throw a few briquettes on the fire to warm things up. Snow is lightly blowing outside the windows at the New Cracker Factory. The seven-person content team is working from home to help save the company on lighting and heating costs. They do that three times a week now. Still, we like to have someone check up on things while the staff is away. Did I mention that CEO Tom Blister filed for a deadline extension on his 2008 year in review? All I can say is that it better be done by Feb. 1. That would be an embarrassment if it were to come out later than that. 2008 already is a fleeting memory for most of us, save the companies announcing fourth-quarter earnings. Not pretty.

There. It's getting warmer. I'll just put my hands … We've gotten some criticism for having an old, coal-fired stove in the work area, but it really makes a difference this time of year. … Well, seeing as how no one's going to make it in today … I might buy myself some Beck's tall-boys at lunch and watch some Dominican winter league baseball on the MLB Network, which we now get in the employee lounge. … Maybe I'll place a few long-distance phone calls. No sense in running my own bill up. No harm there. … And I'll order a pizza. I might even be able to get the pizza guy to bring the beer so I don't have to go outside — give him a little extra for his trouble.

That snow's settling down now. If I play my cards right, I'll have a nice, manageable buzz going by 5. I can head back to the spot and maybe fall asleep on the couch for a few hours, wake up, watch Letterman and polish off the rest of the tall-boys, which I'll stow in my coat on the bus. … Yes, that sounds like a good idea.

Grab bag

2009-01-22T16:24:00.006-06:00

Remember the Woundup Thursday Grab Bag? Neither do I. I just made it up. Anyway …

1. It's official. The city is telling hillbillies to stop putting plastic chairs in the street to mark spots — at least for now. I've followed stories about this for the past two weeks, and about 75% of reader comments have gone against the chairs. The ones for feel they've either earned the right to mark spots because of "sweat equity" or they are people who say this is just part of the "Chicago experience." Y'know, like it's an amusement park.

2. Last Friday Dan McNeil was shit-canned by WMVP. I generally liked "Mac, Jurko and Harry" and would often tune in after I got home from work. At its worst — and Mac was perhaps the chief offender in this department — it was a hot-air fest with the hosts trading quips about the previous night's dinner at a more expensive Loop restaurant, the VIP access they received at a local sporting event or the details of their latest endorsement deal. At its best, it was a very funny show. I'm sure, as Ted Cox says, Mac will land somewhere else. But is 'MVP so bereft of talent that his leaving is a kill shot? I'd like to think the younger guys at the station — Defalco, Dickerson, Hood and Silverman — will step up and be heard. Mac isn't the whole Chicago sports talk scene by himself.

3. I don't really have a third item. I'm rooting for the Cardinals in the Super Bowl. If anything, I'm a little surprised the hype machine hasn't yet swung into full gear. Budget constraints? Uninteresting match-up? Uncharacteristic restraint on the sports media's part? It's something to ponder, if just for a few seconds.

Late night raps

2009-01-20T22:55:00.004-06:00

I've just about finished Studs Terkel's "Division Street: America," which is one of the finest non-fiction books I've read. It's a collection of transcribed interviews done in 1965 with people from Chicagoland. Terkel devotes the last 25 pages of the book to interviews with young people, aged 18-21 — a kind of "voices of the next generation." I find this very interesting because my parents at that time, both aged 20, were a part of that group. It's a little strange to think of your parents as untapped human fonts of potential, yet to truly begin living their lives.

Terkel shows us young people preoccupied with fitting in, with being independent, with separating themselves from their parents — many of the usual concerns for people of this age group. They, of course, were also concerned with having to go to Vietnam, though it seems to be only a distant drumbeat to them. What permeates these final interviews, from what Terkel chose to include from his transcripts, is a sense of both hope for a new, untainted generation and fear of these young people with beliefs and ideas a few shades apart from their parents and grandparents.

More than 40 years later and my dad, as a career counselor, grapples with how his office can better communicate with the newest generation of young adults — the people who now are in the position he once was at the time of "Division Street." Perhaps a little like Terkel, he sees confusion, laziness, vapidity and self-indulgence in them. But I'd like to think he sees the positive, too. He often mentions some of his favorite counseling sessions with students.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, with my daughter close to being born, I realize tonight that my own time as the next unsullied generation is coming to a close. At 32, perhaps it already had passed me and this merely makes it official. But if I may, I would like to shed a tear for my generation's time as the next crop of untapped talent, before we had to leave school and get jobs and generally confront how the world often conspires to frustrate our dreams. We place new generations — my parents in the '60s, me in the '90s — on these sacrificial altars, symbols of what could be better than what came before. I understand this in part because preceding generations like to remember when they were young. But in part I don't agree with it. I think our culture — maybe human culture — does a poor job in assisting its subsequent generations through transition periods: adolescence and young adulthood. In childhood, we indulge our children to enjoy themselves, but when they hit 12 or 13, they are told immediately to grow up. In college we indulge our kids to learn, enjoy college, join clubs, etc., then we tell them to get a job. And before you know it, there's a new group of young people, unsullied, ready to be exalted and examined, minutes after the preceding group was hurried out the door.

As someone who recently went through this, I hope to always carry with me a modicum of the boundless potential once seen in me by others — not to please others, but to prove I have worth to myself. And though we're quick to hustle the post-college person off into the sunset to make way for the new young, we should never forget that post-college person is us. In a way, we will never stop being him/her. It's something I hope I can express to my daughter — that she should never completely lose a feeling of childhood and should never lose a feeling of young adulthood. You lived these things, and they can never be taken from you. As an individual, I feel my potential is only becoming realized. I feel I have a long way to go. And I feel the young time in me, 18-21 — the one I share with my parents, whom Terkel analyzed — will never die. Will always be in a process of becoming.

Page turner

2009-01-20T09:44:00.007-06:00

Well, everything's ready for the new baby. She's got a new room, new clothes, new blankets, new toys and a new president (in a couple of hours). The sun was out this morning. It felt almost warm. I haven't seen the sun without accompanying negative temperatures in … I can't remember how long. It felt like winter was almost over.

Eight years ago, I went to D.C. to protest the departing president's first inauguration, months after the 2000 election and the Florida debacle. I say "protest," but really I went on a whim with some friends just to see what would happen. And not much happened. We spent the day standing in the rain, watching military units and high school marching bands trudge down Pennsylvania Avenue. I did like it when the protesters booed the marching bands. It's perhaps the highest purpose an East Coast pinko can attain: to bum out a plastic cowboy hat–wearing 16-year-old from Abilene, Texas.

Eight years later, I can't place too much hope in another politician taking office — particularly one from the Big Two parties. I just can't. But I'm willing to give him a chance. From history we've learned that wholesale change doesn't happen overnight — unless guns are involved. I can only hope the new president will have an open ear to more progressive ideas and help in their institution, making them seem inseparable from American life much like, well, the cell phone and HDTV. Barring that, it would be nice if fewer people were unnecessarily killed in the world in the coming four years. I guess we'll see what happens.

For the love of the game

2009-01-16T10:04:00.007-06:00

Do you think we've all grown a little closer in Chicago living through the cold these past two days? It's a nice thought, but kind of a silly thing to believe. I'm not afraid to call myself silly … or stupid. The older I get — yes, it's time for the granddaddy of all cliches — the less I know. Or rather, the less I'm willing to pretend that I know everything. It's very liberating.

Sometimes you have to just — cliche No. 2 — let go. Let go to the cold. Let go to the fools clogging up your block with lawn chairs. Let go to workplace miscommunication. … Monday I thought I wouldn't make it, between the weather, work, home repair and neighborhood strife, but here I am, still kicking on Friday. Someday we'll all be gone — this city might be gone — and no one will remember how bad the parking was on our block or how good a job we did on the newsletter rollout. They won't remember us at all. But we have the sun; we have weather; and when the cars are finished passing at Trumbull and Grand on a cold morning, it becomes very silent. To me, that's the true sound of life. It doesn't ask anything of you except to listen.

It's very liberating.

Hold for the party line

2009-01-11T19:36:00.006-06:00

Pro sports playoffs are anti-climactic. If you're like me, you've spent the whole season following all 20, 30, 40 teams, and suddenly only about a quarter of them are left, and each week that number dwindles. In the NFL, it seems to go even faster — a blur of finality. Two weeks on now and we're left with four teams. Soon it will all be over and then … the Pro Bowl, an agnostic's kind of all-star game (definitely not what you were expecting at the end).

However, I tried to remain in the present and take pleasure in this weekend's action. Three of four underdog teams won in the divisional round. There now are no clear-cut favorites for NFL champion, unlike last year. I'm going to listen to the national sports radio guys tomorrow morning to see whom they're leaning toward. You could make a compelling case for each of the remaining four. Talking sports heads don't like to do too much work or stand apart from the cognoscenti, so it'll be fun to hear them squirm. I imagine many will glom onto Pittsburgh because they like big, simple classifications such as "No. 1 defense."

I won't go as far as to root for Baltimore against the Steelers next weekend — I don't really like the Ravens either. I'm just for any scenario that further confounds the pundits and bums out ESPN and NBC. That most likely will mean an Arizona appearance in the Super Bowl. Hey, it's anyone's trophy this year; I'll go with the Cards: An aging, multiply concussed Bible-thumper jumps off his funeral pyre to try to recapture a whiff of his former glory from a decade ago — how can you not like that?

Get ready

2009-01-08T09:24:00.006-06:00

Blister here. That's right, the year in review is on the way. What's that? Yes, Wound-up Corp. took a giant shit in '08, no question. But we're still solvent. That's the motto I printed out on one of those old dot matrix printers and put above Sales' cubicles: WOUNDUP CORP. — STILL SOLVENT.

I'm not afraid. I know what it means to start with nothing. I had to work my ass off to get here. All that hanging around the Westchester Yacht Club, cruising for debs. Then convincing my first wife to marry me, after all the things I made her do in the sack. She was offended, yes, but ultimately she respected a man with conviction: the conviction to get my hands on her inheritance. Her old man had his head blown off running grenade launchers to neo-Marxists in Honduras, and sure enough that money was hers (mine). With that bread, I built this company. It was a fuck of a lot of hard work, folks, as I said.

Looks like I'm giving you gold before the goose ... uh ... I forget how that one goes. Whatever. No more for today. You have to tune in later to read the full report. A lot of heads rolled this year, and the seven-person content team was pissing its pants daily over lay-off rumors. There's nothing scarier to a liberal arts wastoid than the prospect of having to get a real job. God, I'd love to fire 'em, but this site is all we have right now. Doesn't mean I can't whip my Bud empties at the backs of their heads, bunch of fruits.

Checkout at 11

2009-01-07T11:20:00.009-06:00

I'm not having a particularly good day for a number of reasons. Right now, I'm feeling like I want to be carted off in a stretcher at 5 p.m., a la Steve Malkmus in the "Painted Soldiers" video.

Looking at this map on my office wall, I wish I were in Madagascar right now. Somewhere warm. I would settle for Cocoa Beach, Florida. I can almost picture myself standing in the surf. Yes. I'm there …

State of the WeBLoG

2009-01-02T17:29:00.006-06:00

Well, 2009 already is blowing the doors off 2008 in terms of unintentional Google search hits thanks to my mention in yesterday's post of two local broadcasters and their New Year's Eve behavior. I'm glad I wasn't the only one who demanded a little more back story. (Though I've yet to find any good explanations.)

The 2008 unintentional Google search hit winner undoubtedly was my post mentioning the Roger Federer coffee-maker ad, with its echoes of Joe DiMaggio and Mr. Coffee. The international demand for a Federer-endorsed cup of java left numerous footprints across my sitemeter.

I don't really know what else the new year will bring for this WeBLoG. The seven-person content team will keep on doing what it does best: smoking pot before going to work, bidding on rare Fripp & Eno records on eBay and masturbating in the office bathroom. But they give us a gem now and again, and that's why we keep them around.

Oh, and expect soon the 2008 Year in Review from Woundup Corp. CEO Tom Blister. He didn't say much last year, but that won't stop him from trying to pack it all into one post sometime in the next week.

Hair of the Dog Inc.

2009-01-01T17:33:00.003-06:00

You know, I never thought that shop-worn expression actually worked, but only because I never tried it. Sure enough, a nice big glass from the Bitburger pony keg Jonathan brought over last night and I'm feelin' good. Hey, it's New Year's; a little hedonism is all right. Anyway I brought the rest up to Suzi's late, late brunch.

Oops, I cracked open an Old Style. It was hanging around in the back of the fridge. Just trying to keep the spirit going. In all seriousness, we had a nice time last night with J-Dog and Marie, Joe and Lily, as well as the other J-Dog, little 14-month-old Jordan. Erika made a vegan beef wellington, and we sailed thru winter warmers, red wine, pilsener, champagne and chocolate stout. Oof.

ABC 7 had the local ball-drop. We almost missed the final countdown, we were having so much fun. It looked as though Janet Davies and Mark Giangreco had finally found love. Good for those two crazy kids.

Once again, happy New Year! L.H. Puttgrass signing off and heading for the tub.

We hardly knew ...

2008-12-31T09:26:00.007-06:00

There are more than a few people here today at the Cracker Factory. It makes it feel less lonely. But with so little to do, I find myself swiveling around in my chair toward the heavily marked 2008 calendar behind me.

It was a memorable year, in terms of events in the outside world. In the personal sphere, it was a bit of a blur, going by much more quickly, in my perception, than 2007. I got a new job at the beginning of last year, we bought our house at the end of it, so a great deal of change and newness permeated things, which I think slows down one's perception of time. I also finished my first full-length play and undertook my very first marketing campaign for it.

But looking at the 2008 calendar, it seems as if it never even started or that we are still stuck in January. I have to think back much harder on what happened. … The biggest event was/is Erika's pregnancy. I also finished my second full-length play. We went on a great, long road trip to New York. And I saw a couple of Cubs games in there. But mostly it was dominated by the unremarkable routines I so often swear by, and the downside of them is that they can make large blocks of time seem quick and featureless. I remember a few months ago crossing Hubbard at State for three consecutive mornings and each time the traffic light turning yellow at exactly the halfway point of my crossing. That might sum up 2008 best for me.

The year to come, like last year, will bring unexpected and unprecedented change, as our little daughter will join us in the outside world. I have no idea what my life will be like at this time 12 months from now. I only hope it continues to include the love of my wife, a good book, a ball game here or there and my writing. Add the baby, and that's all I'll ever really need. Happy New Year.

High note

2008-12-30T10:25:00.006-06:00

Man, it's been a rough week for the arts. I just heard Freddie Hubbard passed away. I've been a Hubbard fan since college and own many of the records he played on. He definitely was one of the best hard/post-bop trumpeters. Serious jazzbos may not like his crossover jazz/funk work on CTI (great album covers) in the '70s, but they should never forget that he played on "Ascension" and "Free Jazz."

Tonight I'll put on my copy of Blue Note's Hubbard collection in Freddie's honor. And for those of you afterlife believers, you most definitely can be assured he will join a mind-boggling jam session in Jazz Heaven: Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis, Dizzy Gillespie, Roy Eldridge, Lee Morgan and Clark Terry in the trumpet section, among others.

What's left

2008-12-27T00:38:00.003-06:00

I knew there was something up yesterday during the ride to Green Bay when I heard that retrospective-sounding snippet about Harold Pinter. Sure enough ... But we knew he had cancer recently. Still, it makes me sad. Seeing a tiny film snippet of "The Birthday Party" more than seven years ago made me want to be a playwright. His work has been a part of my life since then and will continue to be. If I'm being brief here, it's only because I believe he now joins the ages, and his work stands as a kind of symbol of his immortality … and my appreciation of it is too personal for this space.

Today my mother showed me my baby book, which I've seen before but not in a long time. I was struck by how she so thoroughly filled it up to its designated limits (six years old) and how some of her personal feelings slipped into it. I thought a baby book would be more a piece of family propaganda, only focusing on positives. But my mother let her worry and sadness creep into it, and now that I notice that, I'm grateful. The fact that she chose to express herself in this mass-produced blank book using all the space that was alloted is some kind of testament to how we, of the common population, are only afforded so much time and room to do anything. This isn't a sociological, political or psychological exercise I'm admiring. I just admire her thoroughness in the face of time's passing and the world's indifference. If you can't take a minute to record what your child has done, what's really the point of anything you're going to do? I will follow her example.

H-Hour

2008-12-23T15:38:00.002-06:00

A lull in the snow. I hope if holds up for the next 1.5 hours. I bought a frozen pizza to eat when I get home. I will then wrap more presents.

Pushin' too hard

2008-12-23T10:52:00.002-06:00

It looks like another snowglobe in the Loop today. I think we're all getting a bit sick of the winter. If we can hang in there, the weather people are saying things will warm up above freezing Friday and get sunny beginning Sunday. Erika is out there driving on the streets. I really hope this eases up. We all could use a break.

Old grudges are the best grudges

2008-12-21T19:49:00.005-06:00

The Vikings did in fact lose the game, so tomorrow night's Bears-Packers match takes on significance beyond the usual (somewhat faded) rivalry. I'll give you two reasons to remember why you hate the Packers and a bonus link to raise your anger level even further. Never forget any of this.

One

Two

Three

Siberian League dispatches

2008-12-21T16:55:00.006-06:00

I think it probably was two years ago I was sitting somewhere, at home or maybe at a restaurant, sipping a 10% alcohol brew and lamenting a little that such cold weather warmers were wasted on Chicagoans because of the recent string of wimpy winters. I probably was wishing it were five below zero so I could get the "correct" experience. Well, folks, sometimes the universe listens. This cutting, brutal cold has me crying out for one of those 2006 45-degree Decembers, when people used to say "It was so much colder when I was a kid." Screw that noise.

A good furnace and plastic on the front windows can only do so much in this situation, and living in a hundred-year-old house doesn't help. At least I've got some quality NFL action to occupy me. Nice. Tarvaris Jackson just lost the snap and scrambled backwards 15 yards before three Falcons fell on him. The Bears might have a shot at the playoffs after all.

In other sports news … Well, really this is old news because I was eliminated from my fantasy playoffs two weeks ago. I thought the triple-barreled attack of Peterson, Jones and Cutler would carry me to glory. Ah, well. My brother, who is leading big in the title game today, warned me about fantasy first rounds. Sure enough, that's where I got bounced. Terry is en route to his second straight championship. His acumen frightens me. (He benched Peyton Manning this week in favor of Matt Cassel and was right.) He's a cold, calculating manager, kind of like the Bill Belichick to my, hmm, Jim Mora Jr.? … Yes, I think it's time to end this post. Stay warm.

Wuzinnaname

2008-12-18T14:22:00.008-06:00

At Thanksgiving my father confided that he wished he had my youngest brother's name. It was a bit of a shock. I never knew he was unhappy about this, and it left me feeling a little sorry for him. He actually goes by his middle name, which was used to differentiate him from my grandfather.

By contrast, aside from some teasing I got in the '80s for my last name — which thankfully faded with time like most bits of pop culture (and no, my name is not Erasmus Thighmaster) — I've been 100% happy with my own moniker. I have one of those names that, for some reason, people like to address me by in full. Perhaps it's a pleasing or striking group of tones — or maybe it just sounds funny or ponderous or businesslike. I don't mind. I feel like I've been given a winner, truth be told.

Soon Erika and I must give someone else a name, and I want to avoid creating any resentment like my father's. We have our list; we've even tried it out, week to week, with the baby. At this point, we're going to whittle it down to our three favorites, and then, well, I suppose it's that greatest test of any name: What does the baby "look" like when it's born? Does any baby ever really look like a name? Maybe they do. I only hope she'll like it. And we will do our best to not stack the deck against her with an esoteric choice.

Byzantia Thighmaster may have to wait.

The natives called it "Wind That Howls Through Glass Bus Stop Enclosures"

2008-12-18T09:21:00.007-06:00

All the buildup over the coming super storm naturally has left me skeptical, like most two-bit blog writers. But though a similar warning went by without incident two weeks ago, there is no reason this one won't deliver. The best-case scenario would be that the storm would miss us. Second-best would be that it hits, but it's not so bad. Third-best would be that it hits hard, but we get to leave early and not come to work tomorrow. I'm crossing my fingers for this last one, though I don't know if Chicago could take two crippling rush-hour snowstorms in the same week. It's starting to feel a little like Buffalo, except with way more cars and angrier people. I think there's a potential chamber of commerce ad campaign here, but I'm not sure for which city.

Wranglers

2008-12-17T12:53:00.004-06:00

Thank you, oh lord, for the sun today. And thank you, Cracker Factory, for the free pizza. Gino's East always puts me in a good mood, and frankly I needed the blood sugar boost. I'm ready to tackle the rest of my day (or at least chop block it). Erika brought our car to be fixed and is mopping up Xmas shopping. She took a well-deserved day off.

For me, the funk may be lifting. I don't know if I believe everything happens for a reason, but if I can borrow from our French friends, I try to put reason into the things that happen to me. Sometimes you need a kind word. (Really, you always need a kind word.) And sometimes you need time to put things in perspective. I think I'm getting there.

If I get upset from time to time, it's only because I care. Without caring, what is there? We all experience how that care intersects with the rest of the world, and it is not always congruous. My only promise to you, Woundup reader, is that I won't become cynical. I enjoy having a smile on my face, if it's only just in my head.

We can't win, no way

2008-12-16T22:36:00.004-06:00

I don't want to rehash all the details, only because they would fill me with exhaustion and rage. Erika should be the one who's mad. She spent five hours between leaving work and getting to our front door after a flat tire and a bad spare tire followed. The streets were in horrible, horrible condition.

It's turned into one of those weeks for many reasons, but that's why god invented Black Flag. When you feel like the world and its many inhabitants are a load of shit, just turn those Greg Ginn solos all the way up.

I guess I'd better go to bed. They teased us at work, implying we might get the day off tomorrow if the snow continues to accumulate. I'm not getting my hopes up. This all makes me want to live in a cabin next to the lake. Not Lake Michigan, either.

Blurf

2008-12-16T09:34:00.003-06:00

Forgive me if I forsake my Northern and Eastern European ancestry, but this is a definite work-from-home day. Of course, I had to go to the office, and now the flurries are swirling between our building and Trump's tower like pieces of white lucite in a snowglobe. At least the management company provided a free breakfast this morning. That takes the edge off. And there's a rumor we might get out a little early to beat the snow that all meteorologists are predicting will hit the city after noon. December has already been a bitch, and it's technically not even winter yet. I fear if this cold, dark weather stretches over the next two months, we'll be reenacting the birth sequence from "Eskimo" at the hospital in February.

This weather really makes me want to drink, and I think I had a touch too much red wine last night, which Erika permitted me after I started whining. Well, tonight it's going to be NA beer and probably a shovel session at some point. Man, sometimes I wish it were 2004 again, if just for the global warming.

Monday grab-bag

2008-12-15T09:52:00.004-06:00

My desktop thermometer says 6 degrees outside this morning. The wind-chill made it feel a lot colder an hour ago as I made my way west down Armitage toward Kimball. There was a cutting breeze, and my eyes started to water as I neared the Mexican bakery. I felt like I didn't want to go on. But I went on. Metaphors r Us.

We're approaching the holidays, as well as the baby-advice-giving days. The reality of the situation is sinking in for everyone, and the old mothers and grandmothers are starting to polish their admonishments and out-dated advice. The Internet has done wonders for parental nagging. I'm going to keep a smile on my face. I promise.

I'm proud that the Iraqi shoe-throwing journalist is of my generation. That might be the most significant public thing our generation has done so far. (We've got a lot of years to go.) It's certainly one of the ballsiest moves of all time, as our president commands the strongest, most technologically advanced army in human history, as well as a huge arsenal of nuclear weapons. I wondered aloud to Erika a few weeks ago whether or not we'll all start to feel nostalgia for ol' Bush as the years go on, as we might associate him with a certain time in our lives, and our view of him will soften. But this incident reminds me that thousands of people on both sides have needlessly died because of the events he set in motion. I must never forget that.

Coming and going

2008-12-12T22:07:00.005-06:00

Oh, baby. I own all of this stuff in individual editions, but man does it look good all in one place. Who would buy this? Me. I'm sure there are others out there. Erika, please don't get me this for Xmas. I just want to ogle it a little. It's also fucking expensive. Where does that money go — gravestone polish? I have a picture of the gravestone. He's in the same cemetery as JP Sartre and Baudelaire. I should post it some day.

My Kinda Town continuum

2008-12-11T13:12:00.013-06:00

Well, the new president today said he and his aides did not discuss his empty Senate seat with our governor, though the NYT story mentioned that his campaign manager said in late November that he had done just that. The Trib also noted that new chief of staff and long-time Dem apparatchik Rahm Emanuel was not at the "We didn't do anything" press conference today. He's had past ties to Rod Blagojevich.

If I'm being snide, forgive me, but it would be a huge disappointment if this went any deeper with the new administration. My guess is Barack Obama will pull away with maybe just a few specks of mud and perhaps light a couple of aides, who would be forced to resign for shenanigans in a worst-case scenario. I don't think they'll touch the man himself.

It's just a shame that the local merry-go-round of corruption pseud-news (does the excessive coverage ever really solve the problem?) has now become what the rest of the country is following. The NYT and Trib main sites are nearly identical at the moment. Obama and his campaign did a good job of tamping down his connections to the Chicago political machine (Blago is just a machine creation in Springfield) — though that's also due to the McCain campaign. Perhaps they thought the Rezko link was too weak or too small potatoes ("Chicago Corruption" is kind of like a carnival ride now, which no one takes seriously) or perhaps they just didn't take the time to understand it. But a situation like this begs the question of just how deep and complex the ties are.

Blago is the X-factor: what he knows and what he will reveal. If he's gone mad, as some people are suggesting, he might spill the beans as an act of revenge. Wouldn't he have done it by now? Maybe. Would he take down others with him? Who knows. Would it hurt Obama greatly if there was in fact some kind of back-room deal between the two camps? Well, Bill Clinton survived a lot worse.

Nutso Town

2008-12-09T10:46:00.005-06:00

This has been one of the craziest years I've lived through, between the economy, politics, culture and sports. And it seems Chicago more and more is taking the crown as the capital of insanity as 2008 closes. First the Trib goes bankrupt (perhaps using the recession as a cover to come clean about older debts) and now our governor gets arrested for essentially trying to sell Barack Obama's vacated U.S. Senate seat and wheeling and dealing for the Chicago Cubs (a Trib property). Despite existing intense scrutiny from the U.S. Attorney's office, Gov. Blagojevich thought it would be a good idea to continue acting illegally. (I honestly don't know how he could even walk straight with Patrick Fitzgerald so far up his ass.)

Does this mean Pat Quinn will be our governor tomorrow? Pat Quinn of the signature Pat Quinn Photo Op (c)? That would be the icing on the cake this year for our city and state.

Goodbye to all that 2.0

2008-12-07T11:23:00.010-06:00

Tomorrow one of the last baseball links to my boyhood will move on. Greg Maddux is going to retire after 22 years in the game. I was 10 years old when he began his career with my team, the Chicago Cubs, and I will always associate him with the improbable playoff run of '89. It was perhaps the team's most boneheaded move (even more so than the Lou Brock trade) to let him go after the '92 season when he won his first Cy Young award. He would go on to win three more and serve as a pillar of the Atlanta Braves powerhouse of the '90s, which reached its peak with a World Series victory in '95. Following Maddux's departure, the Cubs floundered through the decade, with only a flash-in-the-pan boost from Sammy Sosa and Kerry Wood in '98.

I don't agonize over what could have been had my team kept one of the greatest control pitchers of all time, but rather I only feel the sweet sting of time's passing, as the oldest of the old guard resign themselves to their final places in the big tome of baseball's history. Yes, they are now gone, and perhaps with it the living remnants of my youngest days, but at least I'll be able to remember what they did for the game and its fans. (I'm am comforted by the fact that another old Cub, Jamie Moyer, is still playing and just helped the Phillies win a title.)

As the Cubs were losing Game 1 of this year's National League Divisional Series against the Dodgers, Joe Torre called Greg Maddux, a 355-game winner, out of the bullpen to face his old team. Great irony, certainly, but also a wonderfully strange and poetic returning that I would hope everyone in their own lives could enjoy. I don't know what Maddux will do next, but in my mind he already has joined the eternals — a Cub, always our guy.

The insider

2008-12-06T16:22:00.003-06:00

I didn't lose my job yesterday, thankfully, but I do seem to have picked up some kind of bug — my other fear from two days ago. I'm not sure if it's flu or a cold, but I'm feeling crappy. Rats. Well, I'm not missing much outside. Right now it looks like a textbook example of winter. Instead, I'm sitting in comfort in my house shoes, with central heat and the Alabama/Florida game. I'm thankful for all of these things.

I think Erika's sleeping right now. She had to do some grueling extracurricular work that involved carting kids yesterday from the South Side to Evanston, coming home around 1 this morning, getting up at 7 and doing it all over again today.

Does it get much more interesting than this? Wait, I almost forgot to say that I'm going to reorganize our filing cabinet system. This is why I don't usually write weekend dispatches. … Well, pleasant evening to you.

TGIF

2008-12-05T10:09:00.005-06:00

I don't mean to get melodramatic, but the boss is in the office after being out all week. Friday is the day you're most likely to get fired/laid off, perhaps because then you just go home for the weekend, and, well, at least you have the weekend to collect yourself (and not come back to the office). I would think our boss would give us some warning about upcoming cuts. One person was laid off about two months ago, and the higher-ups stressed it was a redundant position long for the chopping block. They then said they foresaw no more cuts ahead.

Today's grim unemployment news makes me wonder how much cuts on the part of companies are the result of real financial needs and how much have been because of hysteria — and whether it will affect our company/group. I recently read a columnist I trust who believes the 24/7 news cycle is overcooking the financial crisis, creating more fear and paranoia. But this job news is hard to ignore, and with a baby on the way in about two months, I'm feeling a bit nervous. Thankfully, my wife has a recession-proof job that pays her more than me and provides health insurance. (She's kept hers as an emergency backup.) I would like to think my skills and training are very marketable, but I worry what the actual market will be for them. Are there electronic tumbleweeds currently blowing through the editing/writing section of Craigslist?

Well, all I can do right now is sit tight and count off the rest of these 6.5 hours till I can go home (hopefully still employed). Then I won't have to worry again — till next Friday.

Whirling hall of knives

2008-12-04T10:20:00.004-06:00

Seems I'm now surrounded by sick people at the Cracker Factory. Not sure what I should do — perhaps close my door. Let me do that. Okay. I need to formulate a plan: how to get out. Feeling a little off. Christ, I'm getting sick, too. I have to get out of here. I don't think these floors are very thick. I have a spoon in my bottom drawer — maybe I'll dig down to 22. Yes, I'm definitely getting sick. If I stay here another hour, I'm done for. Wait … I have a 2009 plastic, erasable wall calendar still in the box. I can wrap this around myself to fend of the germs and make a run for the door. … But I can't touch the handle because everyone's touched the handle today, including the infected people. I'm going to have to cover my hands in 20 sheets of kleenex each — that way I can open the front office doors and press the — Fuck. The down elevator button. The worst disease-harborer of them all. What am I … I know. I'm going to tape these five pencils together, so I can stand as far away as possible from the down elevator button and safely press it without using any part of my body. Then, I'll step into the elevator … But what if I breathe in germs through the air? I'll have to wrap my head in toilet paper. Yes. Then I can run through the office, my head wrapped in toilet paper, covered in a 2009 plastic wall calendar, holding five taped-together pencils, press the down elevator button, jump inside and go down to the lobby.

You'll see someone fitting this description running across the Wabash Ave. bridge in about five minutes. I'm heading straight to Maxim's Oxygen Bar on Hubbard. He has a mitochondrial reabsorbtion chamber there that you can pay for by the hour. God knows I'm going to need it.

The taped dollar

2008-12-02T10:50:00.016-06:00

Sunday night while coming back from the hair place, I stopped at Foodsmart on Armitage, between California and Sacramento. Rain mixed with sleet had been falling all day, so I hoped to get a bag of sidewalk salt before it turned to snow (which it did later in the evening). Sure enough there was a stack of heavy, yellow salt bags right next to the newspapers up front. Lacking cash, I took $40 out of the ATM. I then brought the bag to the counter and set it down.

There was a middle-aged woman behind the register, and she was very slowly and methodically taping together a one-dollar bill down the middle with clear scotch tape. She did not look up and did not hurry herself to finish this job. If we had been in a small town, the woman most likely would've apologized, put the dollar down and rung me up. Not so in the City of Big Shoulders. I really took no offense; I was in no hurry. I paid for my bag of salt (five dollars and change) with one of the twenties from the ATM. She broke it and gave me back the difference.

This morning I looked in my wallet for a dollar to feed into the Coke machine, and I found the scotch-taped bill. Apparently I was in more of a hurry on Sunday night than I thought because I failed to notice that the woman gave it to me as part of my change. I don't know if any Coke machine will accept this dollar, and I'm even wary a convenient store like Foodsmart would refuse it. I guess you could say I got screwed twice: having to wait and getting back damaged currency. For a retail transaction, that's a impressive feat.

I console myself by saying that it's all a big give and take. … Though maybe there is no system. Or maybe you're always on the receiving end. Or maybe it's just Chicago. … Or maybe I should just forget it. … Yes, that's probably the way to go.

Living memory

2008-12-01T12:40:00.003-06:00

I, perhaps like many readers of Peter King's Monday Morning Quarterback column today, was saddened by news that legendary Sports Illustrated football writer Paul "Dr. Z" Zimmerman was recuperating from two strokes suffered two weeks ago. King did a great job in his column of letting us younger readers know about Dr. Z's long-form print writing. Most of us under 35 only know him as the man who does SI's preseason picks of playoff and Super Bowl teams, as well as power rankings and other smaller stories on the magazine's Web site.

Dr. Z, who has covered the game since the '60s and has experiences of it from well before then, is a link to pro football's gutsier, less glamorous, less commodified past, when the game was really just a game, not an entertainment experience — and to those of us who started watching the NFL in the '80s, that past always seems like it was a lot more fun and heroic. I hope we can continue to read Dr. Z's wranglings over the annual Pro Football Hall of Fame nominees. He has strong opinions about players most of us never heard of or have forgotten. And I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't issue his annual grades of TV football announcers at season's end. Late winter will certainly be grayer and colder if it goes missing.

I, somewhat selfishly and like many others, hope Dr. Z can return to writing for SI as soon as possible. But more importantly, I just hope he can recover. I'd hate for that powerful link to the past to be extinguished.

The sorrow and the pity

2008-11-30T22:01:00.009-06:00

What is this steaming bowl of vomit before my eyes? The Bears game, of course. I have crossed the threshold of mere anger — as my body at this point cannot handle a full-throated expression of my agony — into a kind of blackhole of fan pain, the outward signs being deep sighs, long breaths and hollow whispers. I feel like crawling into a cold hole. If they lose this one, the season is done, and we get six months of Bulls rebuilding and Cubs uncertainty. A wretched menu, for sure.

NBC has shown Adrian Peterson come off the field every single time tonight, with further shots of him staring back at his teammates while a disembodied hand squirts Gatorade into his mouth. I can't remember any player getting covered this closely. … Now there's a shot of him coming back in. Madden is twitching and salivating. … Touchdown. I hate the Vikings. I've hated them my whole life. I think I'm going to kill myself now.

Men of Buffalo, heed the call

2008-11-25T14:10:00.011-06:00

Today, my brother Matt is wending his way through the Rust Belt — probably somewhere around Toledo by now — to pay us an extended Thanksgiving visit. We're looking at upward of 20 people from both sides of the family for this year's feast at our house. Erika, naturally, will be the star of the show with her pregnant stomach. (By the way, we're calling the baby Olivia Jane this week, or O.J.)

It's always great to see Matt. I only wish we lived in the same city — he in Chicago or we in Buffalo. Well, we'll just have to make the most of the celebratory itinerary we've been handed. Yea and there will be much song and feasting — and microbrew and import beer consumption! (And cursing of the NFL Network, though I love it so.)

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Thoughts from the holding pen

2008-11-24T09:46:00.006-06:00

The entire power structure that was in place when I was hired at the New Cracker Factory is gone, including the two people who interviewed me back in December 2006. I've tried to figure out why, but I don't have enough real information to come up with a satisfying answer: Either the people, who were long-time colleagues, felt it was some kind of end of an era and inspired one another to leave or all of them sensed the company was in trouble and decided to jump ship. I have a feeling it might have been a combination of both.

Our company, like many others, is facing economic uncertainty, particularly in our specific group. It's not the most reassuring thing with a baby on the way in two months, but I'm confident the brass will hang tough for us. I told myself in January 2007 that I'd start looking for a new gig in two years. That time is almost here, and I think I will stay true to my promise, more out of curiosity than necessity. (I pray it stays that way.) This job is good, but we're all kind of frozen in place. It would be nice to work somewhere with a chance to make more bread, if I may be honest. It's something I now have to think about.

Erika and I both have left jobs in the last two years that were our first real gigs out of college. We had/have an attachment to them, for better or worse, that I don't think we'll ever find in our current or future gigs. Well, I shouldn't speak for her, but I know with myself that I've begun to feel more mercenary as time has gone on. It's a liberating feeling, and it's also an empty feeling — one of temporariness and not caring. I'd like some job down the road to prove me wrong that this feeling is now permanent.

Arch Stanton

2008-11-19T11:43:00.004-06:00

Something's definitely up in my sinuses and nasal passages today. Irritation from central heat dryness? Impending sickness? I have been blowing my nose a lot. I also feel a little fatigued, but that could be from hunger just prior to lunch. Who said the hypochondriac's life isn't exciting?

I think the computer really promotes a wandering attention span, as I'm writing this while jumping back and forth from some work work and the affairs of a tiny electronic village I'm presiding over as part of an online video game. It's time to focus. Like we used to back in the late '80s. Remember?

All signs point to sickness and its attendant dementia. It's time we made watching "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" a new Thanksgiving tradition along with drinking Bitburger beer. Case closed.

Another nordnik proclaims his love for radio

2008-11-14T19:06:00.011-06:00

In an effort to not bow to the power of TV — though last night we notched another full hour of "Frasier" on our tube-watching axe handle … Let me start over: Erika and I don't have cable. And I don't think we're going to get it, even in anticipation of the DTV switch-over in February. (Our child will never know the joy of analog television.) It would just suck us in. Well, really it would suck me in.

Precedence exits: While Erika was taking her class near Morristown, N.J., in August, I was back at the hotel allowing toxic levels of ESPN, ESPN2 and ESPN News to seep into my eyes. I shudder thinking about what could happen here at home when ESPN Classic is thrown into the mix as an obligatory part of a cable package. ("Bills-Oilers '92 playoff game? I've got nothing better to do.")

So … in light of this, I've had to feed my sports fix with radio during those hours when football contests are usually shown on pay TV. I like to think I'm the only one following the game this way outside of truck drivers, pizza delivery people, people who work in downtown parking lot shacks and shut-ins. I know that's not true, but it's a fiction that enhances the romance — that old romance of the radio.

Really, I only wrote this post to proclaim my love for Westwood One's football coverage. If you're like me and are in the same fix, you have undoubtedly become familiar with Westwood One, the nationally syndicated radio network (which I believe is an arm of CBS) that carries the Thursday/Monday night games. My week doesn't seem right now without at least a 15-minute visit with Boomer Esiason and Marv Albert on Monday night or gravelly voiced Dennis Green on Thursday.

I've been listening to Westwood One for more than five years now — over four residences and countless nights. Its existence reinforces the warming idea that somewhere, everywhere a game is on the radio for you to listen to while you unwind and forget your problems, if just for a few moments. Sometimes when you're alone, that's all you really need.

Man, an imperfect animal

2008-11-13T11:49:00.008-06:00

Christ, I'm bored today. The last issue of the year went out last week. I have some Web site duties, but between that and my commute (detailed yesterday), there's little to pass the time. I've amused myself with Internet games, sent out some more submissions and even written in a journal to my unborn child.

At least I'm not anxious. Wait, who said that bit about anxiety and boredom? The two states of humankind. I think it was Pascal, but I'm not going to rely on the Internet to provide the answer. Well, man also is a bit of an asshole. Erika was nice enough to take me to work this morning, and I criticized her driving. This situation, I've found, moves me to criticize her driving skills more readily than any other, and I always forget this fact before going into it again. Now I'm thrashing about with guilt.

I did finish up another draft of my new play yesterday, and I've sent it to the Feedback Processing Factory. I'm confident I can wrap this whole thing up by March, April at the latest. My goal is to do it in fewer drafts than the last two, which I hope spells an improvement in my skills (and a break for my sanity).

But none of this is helping my boredom. I can't even listen to the song "Boredom" because my Sprial Scratch 7" is in Detroit. I think it's time to sleep under my desk.

At least he was doing what he liked

2008-11-12T11:51:00.011-06:00

I was especially careful this morning crossing the corner of Homan and Grand. I was nearly hit by a pickup truck there yesterday while trying to catch the 65 bus. This is perhaps the most pedestrian-unfriendly intersection in Chicago, with vehicles making blind turns under a Metra bridge right into the designated crosswalk. I don't think it's really meant for foot traffic, being in a kind of no-man's warehouse land between Humboldt Park and the West Side.

Whatever. I was too reckless, running out on Grand like that. I don't want to die before my child is born — particularly in such a stupid fashion. Getting killed as part of a CTA commute might make a kind of poetic sense (the system always wins), but you'll probably be viewed as an idiot as the years pass, until you become a joke in your great-grandson's stand-up routine …

"I can't say I come from a lucky family. My great-grandfather was hit by a bus."

(Now appearing Thursday at the Comedy Hovel.)

Wigs, come and gone

2008-11-09T19:27:00.009-06:00

Flexing some fantasy muscle today. Our league is starting to shake out, and it's looking like my youngest brother and I are going to be gunning for the coveted Culpable Cup. (That's what I call it, at least.) There might be a couple other dudes in the mix, but I truly feel a hermano y hermano championship match-up is imminent.

Cold day and a cold evening. Eagles/Giants on TV. I'm in the right place. We saw old friend (and old Woundup fan) Vanessa this morning. Always good to see her. She lives in a really sweet apartment now, too. That reminds me that we were roommates six years ago when I first moved into this wonderful city of ours. I just talked to Ted, and I halted in saying I moved to NYC just prior to the great 2000 election flap to spare an old friend a reminder of the passage of time. But now I've said it anyway. Sorry, Ted.

What to close on. ... Last night Erika and I cracked open HBO's "John Adams," and I am still confused about 18th century men's wig protocol. Sometimes they wore powdered wigs, but they also seem to have worn their hair long and braided it like the powdered wigs, but then Adams was bald and wore a natural-colored wig in this style because he was bald(?), but then he also wore the long white wig of a lawyer in the English court system. Someone really needs to help me out with this, and I don't want a Wikipedia answer. I want someone who actually knows this from a history class or a fashion class or something. Please.

Day after day after day

2008-11-05T11:10:00.004-06:00

Two hangovers in one week's time. Seeming a little more like the old days around here lately. We, like many of our ilk, were out at a bar last night watching the election returns. Erika also watched me put away four beers — which is a lot for me. I didn't get the ideal amount of sleep, either, but now I've had orange juice, Powerade, Coca Cola, orange juice again, McDonald's breakfast and water, and it seems more likely I'll be able to limp through the rest of the day. I can see my bed at the finish line.

If you were expecting more profound thoughts on the election, I can only say that my positive vibes are tempered by questions about what's going to happen next. Just how much change are we going to see? I've vacillated between feeling hopeful for true restructuring, with the progressive organization of the Democratic campaign as one early indicator, and feeling wary of a possible watering down of campaign messages when the new administration is confronted with the realities out there now. Time will tell, I guess, as it always does.

Weequeend Wrappup

2008-11-03T11:43:00.006-06:00

November's upon us. Today is my brother Matt's birthday. I suppose it's officially time to put on one's holiday running shoes. We're going to be hosting Thanksgiving at our place, as we did in 2006, for both families. We're still not sure what will happen at Christmas.

We had fun at the beer bar watching one of Chris's bands and the two that came after. I had a little too much Robert the Bruce Scottish-style ale and paid for it on Sunday, but I don't regret a thing. Erika said the baby was moving around a bit, which could indicate a musical tendency — though what person doesn't enjoy music?

I went to a playwriting class yesterday. I don't know what to make of these things anymore. It was nice to hear a playwrights-first viewpoint on writing stage directions, working with actors, etc. So often I have heard the other side of the equation, which can be a bit of a bummer (i.e., less freedom for writers). It was supposed to be a big feel-good session, which I guess is good, but it left me feeling depressed and alone as a writer. In some strange way, I was reminded that my work is really nothing more than programming, that no one knows/remembers my name (save a few) and that my work is often interpreted as crazy by others. And after I've been reminded of this, I have to go home and continue working alone for months. What exactly am I supposed to feel good about?

Well, today is the proverbial new day. It's warm and sunny outside. I have my tea here. I'm going to eat lunch soon. And after that, I will get back to work. Last week I made some significant headway in my latest draft, and I was proud of myself for coming back to it each day and not relenting. That makes me feel good. That, I suppose, is all that should matter.

No Xmas for John Quays

2008-10-26T18:42:00.011-05:00

Scene from the fantasy football trenches, Week 8

Holding on to a wafer-thin lead late in Sunday's action, the Logan Square Squires looked to close out week 8 against high-powered foe Tokyo Terror. Thanks to some inspired play from back-up runner Jamal Lewis and the Colts defense, the Squires were up 90.06 to 88.52 with all combatants done for the week, save Squires (and Steelers) QB Ben Roethlisberger, playing a tough one in the real world against the New York Giants.

With the Giants leading 21-14 late in the fourth quarter, Pittsburgh looked for one last miracle drive from their daring passer. (TV stats said he's lead 14 Q4 comebacks in his four-year career.) However, Ben had already thrown three interceptions — depriving me of two fantasy points each — so far, as the Giants brought constant heat at the line of scrimmage. One more pick and I'd be down two more points, losing this week's fantasy matchup.

The Giants bring more blitzes: incompletion, incompletion, incompletion. Fourth down with about a minute left. One more chance for the Steelers, and there's no doubt it's going to be a Hail Mary. A vision of Nate Washington jumping for the ball downfield surrounded by six Giants defenders flits through my head. The snap. Ben evades the blitz and throws it long. Interception. Real-life game over. I'm now down 88.06/88.52. Fantasy game over. … I think I just started bleeding out of my eyeballs.

Nostalgish

2008-10-24T10:18:00.007-05:00

It's strange to think that a baseball stadium built in your conscious lifetime could be considered stylistically outdated (or even retro), but sure enough, watching the World Series, I've gotten the feeling that the Tampa Bay Rays' Tropicana Field is truly out of its era — though that era (the late '80s) is something I can distinctly remember.

True, parks such as Wrigley and Fenway are very out of their eras, but their old feels are a link to a past — echoed in the newer "neighborhood-style" parks of the '90s and '00s — teams want to cultivate. A purer time, so they believe. But the Trop — one of the last cookie-cutter stadiums of the '70s/'80s — is a different kind of reminder: one of lower attendances, the unsettling first decade of free agency, the mercenary nature of the DH and of general fan unfriendliness. (It's even media unfriendly, offering a high and off-center location for the center field camera.)

But when I see those blank, high pads against the backstop — an area that would now be filled with premium seating at places like PNC Park and Petco Park — I'm filled with a kind of strange nostalgia. And when Fox cuts away to full-stadium shots of the Trop, I can't help but think that it does looked outdated, though for such a long time that was what baseball looked like to me: a fixed dome, fake grass and multiple, vertiginous decks miles in the distance. Can you be nostalgic for something ugly and poorly planned? Definitely. And I'm growing to really like the Trop.

As a side note, it's very ironic that, years later, the Phillies are battling in the World Series in a fixed-dome stadium. Their last October visit had them facing the Toronto Blue Jays in 1993 at that king of '80s era baseball venues: the SkyDome.

Quiet village

2008-10-22T09:56:00.013-05:00

You know, I never did buy the copy of "Quiet Village" like I wanted to back during the lounge/exotica revival of the '90s. I remember having a copy in my hand at a Hamtramck record store the day after we played a show in Ann Arbor in 1998, but I put it back in the bin, probably because it was a 180-gram reissue that cost $25. Ah well …

We watched "Forgetting Sarah Marshall" last night (and enjoyed it). Maybe that has me thinking about Hawaii and its dreamlike music. Also, the Cracker Factory is a bit mum today; the shifting seasons have muted my normally chattering co-workers. I felt pretty dog dang tired myself Monday night after a full slate of 50 degrees and grayness. But I think this is actually my kind of weather — I'll call it "minutes before sleep." The overcast maritime climate of Continental Europe beckons. I just have to learn French (or brush up on my German).

Some friends read the latest draft of my new play on Sunday. It turned out well, and I'm ready to kick off the next revision with their comments in mind. The pay-to-play service I've used the past two years didn't come through, even though I, yes, still paid for it. But I liked our home reading better. It was very insightful and refreshingly without the usual whining from the kitchen sink crew.

… Listen to that quiet. Just the faint hum of lights and the cycling of the building furnace. Perhaps elevators in the distance. Someone lets out a sigh down the hall … Time for a banana.

This kind of helps, too

2008-10-16T16:23:00.000-05:00

A tradition unlike any other.

Uncertain time-suh

2008-10-16T16:01:00.003-05:00

Looks like I need to take my own advice, as the stress factor has gone up about 10 notches since I last posted. Let's hear that theme, shall we?

Best TV theme ever. I think we need this for the whole office today — or at least our department. I figure I've got about 1.5 to 2 hours to go before I can be at home drinking a beer and forgetting about this bullshit. Hang in there, Woundup.

Serenity now

2008-10-16T10:16:00.005-05:00

I don't know what it is about the theme from "Taxi," but I find it very calming. With all the stuff I've read recently about in-utero communication and memory-forming, it makes me think my Mom watched the show while she was toting me around in 1976 — that or we all watched it together before my faculties fully kicked in.

That said, I find that on a stressful day, such as today, playing the "Taxi" theme in my head relaxes me quite a bit. I'd even advocate for pumping it in over the office's emergency PA system, but not everyone may enjoy the same effects I do.

It all makes me wonder what Bob James is up to right now. Probably hanging out in the Florida Keys. Cue that theme.

(More than a few) Moments of peace

2008-10-14T15:47:00.012-05:00

Navigating the rough waters of backed-up work: the price to pay for a three-day weekend of fun. But I've managed to keep my ship afloat and relatively dry since 9 a.m.

It's a price I'll always be willing to pay. Erika and I had a really nice time in Three Oaks. The weather was absolutely beautiful, with bright sun glinting off the area's many multicolored trees. Our little hideaway was cozy, as always, and we stocked it well with food and drink. I admit I watched a little more DirecTV than I should've (MLB playoffs, college and pro football), but Erika managed to get me out of the house for a couple of bike rides, including a 14-miler, numerous walks downtown and an evening visit to New Buffalo, where we sipped our beverages by the small harbor facing west (back toward Chicago) before adjourning to a microbar indoors to keep the friendly young bartender (a local actor and musician) company. Later, Erika stopped with her well-buzzed husband at legendary Redamak's for some cheese fries (mine) and a veggie flat-bread sandwich (hers), enjoyed greatly back at the house.

Three Oaks thrives on seasonal tourism, and it was still in full effect this past weekend, perhaps because of those beautiful leaves. We saw lots of Illinois license plates on Audis and Lexuses, as foursomes of gray-haired flatlanders cruised the farm fields, stopping at overpriced antique stores. I don't know if that will be us someday, but we do want to bring our child(ren) to this wonderful place. When the grind of dark, dreary Chicago starts getting to us, we can remind ourselves of this other world only an hour and a half away: the warm house on a quiet street and the feeling that the city isn't everything.

Procrastinatown

2008-10-09T09:56:00.003-05:00

Finding it hard to get going this morning on my work, both professional and personal. I've had my infusions of orange juice and Pepsi. ... Perhaps this poppyseed muffin will help. ... See even the Mechanical Man, Woundup, finds it hard to push forward from time to time. ...

I wonder if the city of Akron, Ohio, has ever officially honored Devo. Like a giant bronze statue of Mark Mothersbaugh in a crib with the baby mask on. ... That would be awesome.

Don't go to southwestern Michigan

2008-10-06T15:45:00.010-05:00

Just keep reading that subject line. Meanwhile, Erika and I will steal away to Three Oaks this Friday evening for an extended weekend of fun. I've been looking forward to it for months, and I'm going to get some very good beer at Whole Foods in anticipation.

Why am I being so secretive? Dutiful Woundup readers will be able to locate my gushing SW Mich. report from a while ago (though I won't point you in its direction now). It seems interest in our little hideaway has increased over the past year. I won't pretend this blog has contributed to that, though write-ups in the Trib and Time Out most likely have.

We only discovered the area a year and a half ago ourselves. I'm sure we look like interlopers to the long-time visitors (and all of us invaders to the locals). Such is the nature of humankind, played out year after year over centuries. I don't really need to get into all that. I only want to drink my Belgian tripel in peaceful seclusion. See you at the cottage! (Well, see me, not you.)

Quiche can't fix everything

2008-10-03T14:55:00.006-05:00

Christ Jesus. We just found out Erika's step-father, who's been remodeling our baby's room, fell off a ladder in Palatine while helping a friend build a haunted house and broke his leg. That just sucks. Please keep John in your thoughts and prayers for a speedy recovery. He's an old veteran of job site injuries, but a broken leg is still a broken leg.

Well, that really puts a damper on the rest of this Friday. To recover, I would need some Bulls preseason action. Is that going to be available? I was looking forward to killing off the last two Brooklyn Pennant Ales in the fridge, as well.

I don't really know what the weekend holds beyond paying Erika's folks a visit. Maybe a few unexpected drops of sunshine into our lives will fall. Barring that, I'll take a slice of quiche at Vella.

Oh baby

2008-10-01T09:21:00.004-05:00

My guy Eric Asimov tackles Oktoberfest bier.

I'm picking Oktoberfest as my drinking holiday of choice over St. Patrick's Day and Cinco De Mayo. Seems like it's getting a little more buzz this year, too. You just can't beat the Germans on lager (though some U.S. craft brewers are coming close).

Oh PBS ...

2008-09-29T09:46:00.018-05:00

Well, I really don't know where to begin about "Spain — On the Road Again." Being a fan of NYT food writer Mark Bittman, I figured I'd give it a watch when it was on WTTW last night. I liked Bittman's "The Best Recipes in the World" show. In it, he would travel to exotic locales to, say, watch someone's grandma make gniocchi. And though it wasn't a straight how-to cooking show — Bittman did flash back to his kitchen to make something once in awhile — the food was always at the forefront.

"On the Road" seems to be more about the journey: an aimless, bloated, wine-sodden journey. Bittman tools around Spain in a Mercedes convertible with superchef Mario Batali, big-time starlet Gywneth Paltrow and Spanish actress Claudia Bassols, stopping at little towns to eat local delicacies and, most importantly, sample local wine.

We're never shown how to make any of the food. I could live with that (I'm not much of a cook) if I didn't have to endure Batali's obnoxious, know-it-all posturing, Paltrow's vapidity or the general decadence of the whole thing.

American foodies like Batali and Bittman are obsessed with getting back to the source of European cuisine, the gastronomic terroire — soaking in the sun, sniffing the soil, licking the rocks, etc. But this show just makes it all look like what it really is: an update of the Ugly American tourist. Only now he's got even more money, and he's pretending to be an expert on your culture. (I wouldn't feel too bad for Spain, though — one of the Top 5 Oppressor Nations in history.)

I also was a bit creeped out by the middle-aged-dudes-hitting-on-hot-young-chicks subplot. I apologized to Erika that there wasn't sufficient young man meat to feast her eyes upon. Straight women must make due with the hoggish Batali and the husk-like Bittman.

I'm sure Batali would call me a prude, more content with "America's Test Kitchen" and NA beer, but it's just really hard to watch millionaires and their buddies get drunk and eat blood sausage for an hour. For Bittman's sake, I'll check out one more episode. There's always the chance one (or all) of them will end up in a Spanish jail.

It's a girl!

2008-09-24T10:02:00.004-05:00

We're having a girl! A girl? I wouldn't have believed it, either, after all the old wives' tales and armchair genetics we've been hearing the past few months about boys. (I just copyrighted that term, "armchair genetics," by the way, so hands off.)

Erika and I went in for the more intensive ultrasound yesterday. The equipment was pretty amazing. Our technician could measure the little bones in our daughter's arms and legs, see all the chambers of her beating heart and even look at her brain. And when we saw her little mouth move, well, that was just the best.

I grew up with two brothers and no female first cousins (no first cousins at all, actually), so this is going to be a very interesting experience for me. I'm so happy, I'm tearing a little as I write this. Our girl had her little legs over her head in a yoga pose, looking a lot like her mother. Maybe that will be the case. Nothing would make me happier than to live to 99, listening to two Erika-like people yak back and forth. =)

Week 3 reflections

2008-09-21T16:44:00.008-05:00

I hate to be one of those people who says, "We should be 3-0," but, well, we should. The Bears frittered away strong chances to win the last two weeks, particularly today against Tampa, when Charles Tillman was called for a fighting penalty in overtime that kept the Bucs' drive alive.

The city is always happier when the Bears are winning, so it's disheartening when you come to the realization that our boys will probably turn in another 2007-, 2004-, 2002-type effort. Thankfully for the local sports fan, our baseball teams are both poised to continue their seasons in the playoffs.

And at least I've got my fantasy team — though it looks like they'll need more than a little help this week to eke out a win. Rats. Uh … how about the Cowboys/Packers Sunday night game? Ah yes, that should soothe the hurt of the Bears loss a bit — some pure football appreciation. I feel a little bad I missed last Monday's "King of All Fantasy Games," but we're still going cable-free, at least for the moment.

Where is this all leading? Well, me on the couch in a couple hours. Not a bad place to be. Enjoy yourselves on this, the rest of your Sunday, Woundup fans.

Time to wield the blade v2.0

2008-09-19T09:40:00.007-05:00

We had Al, Suzi and Chris over for faux meatloaf last night. Great dinner. And naturally, after a couple brews and some wine — and three old rockers in the room — the conversation turned to metal. I put on some Motorhead, and Chris revealed that a former classmate now drums for King Diamond. A distinguished metal accomplishment.

I sometimes wonder if what Neil Meredith said — essentially, "once a metalhead, always a metalhead" — is true, in that my formative years of constant listenings to "Ride the Lightning" affected my tastes even to this day, be it for freaked-out free jazz or menacing absurdist drama.

I'd like to think it can't be summed up so easily. I've got a sensitive side, after all: I enjoy still life paintings, professional golf and the Modern Jazz Quartet. I even bought a "Best of America" record in 1999. I suppose if metal represents anger, dissatisfaction, frustration, then, yes, certainly that streak is there. But isn't it in everyone in some way? It's just some of us choose to express it by, say, listening to "Overkill" at top volume. Great record, by the way.

A snob concedes

2008-09-16T10:16:00.009-05:00

We received the film version of "Look Back in Anger" somewhat accidentally, as I let our Netflix backlog of classics creep up into the top three, normally reserved for contemporary indie movies about disillusioned, balding literature professors and their damaged families. (I think we've seen about eight of these so far.)

Being a snide neo-absurdist, I've harbored a slight disdain for John Osborne for, you know, all the stock reasons. But watching "Look Back" last night, I was shocked out of my abstract stance by a work that strikingly concentrated on the here and now, without any artificial accentuation of hope or despair: a true piece of realism. And I was struck by the excellence of Osborne's writing. It really made me want to read the thing again.

As a snob, I used to scoff at this play for being what seemed like a long personal political rant tacked on to a stock love story. The film version gave it air, moving a lot of the action outside the flat and put some of Jimmy Porter's snarling in different locations that made it seem more varied and even stronger.

Is it better than a play where you don't know anyone's name or their names change or you never find out why they are where they are? I don't know. High marks have tended to go, at least in the last 60 years, to those writers who give less. But Osborne's naked, loquacious work struck me right in the heart last night. And that may be all that matters: what echoes the challenges, with equal sadness and joy, that we face in our lives.

Eagles/Cowboys: Genet takes the points

2008-09-12T12:12:00.013-05:00

From today's "Sports Guy" column on ESPN Page 2. …

Bob: "Thanks, Bill. I'm here with Cris Collinsworth, Jerome Bettis, Tiki Barber, Dan Patrick, Keith Olbermann, Peter King, Olympic hero Michael Phelps and a homeless guy we just found on the street. Get ready for one of the most confusing, choppy and incoherent pregame shows in the history of television. Although there is some good news — we finally have enough people on this show for a complete softball team."

Cris: "Actually, Bob, you can have 10 guys on a softball team."

Bob: "Really? Then let's bring in our new humorist, he's going to do some predictable comedy segments for us, and more importantly, he's the man who finally realized Dick Ebersol's dream of spending $100 million on talent for a "Sunday Night Football" telecast when you include what Madden and Michaels are making … please welcome to the show our old friend Billy Crystal."

Billy: "Bob, I'm confused — is this a pregame show or a bar mitzvah?"

(Everyone laughs uproariously.)

Thank you, Bill Simmons, for writing what many of us were thinking: Why did "Sunday Night Football" add Dan Patrick to an already overstuffed pre/post cast? How much airtime can you possibly give him to be effective? This brings even more confusion to SNF, which boasts a staging as complex as Jean Genet's "The Screens." (I like to think the "players' table" of Cris Collinsworth, Tiki Barber and Jerome Bettis actually exists in Bob Costas' mind whenever they cut away to it, as it has kind of an inner sanctum feel being offset from the main stage and enclosed in walls of TVs.)

I know NBC is trying to capture some of the '90s DP/KO magic, but can you graft together a SportsCenter broadcast, a former players' analysis show and an Olympics-style anchor-at-the-desk thing (Costas) and call it a coherent pre-game? Guess we'll just have to see how these goofballs do this week.

Tudorized

2008-09-11T10:38:00.009-05:00

Erika and I are rapidly approaching the saturation point for Henry VIII-related historical drama, having recently plowed through all available "The Tudors" DVDs as well as "The Other Boleyn Girl." I'm not saying I've grown weary of the timeless tale of Henry Tudor, Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Mary Boleyn, Thomas Boleyn, Thomas More, Thomas Cromwell and Cardinal Woolsey, but it might be time to take a break before that happens.

Some other points in British history I'd like to see recreated, for a change of pace …

• The Restoration
• The Glorious Revolution
• The reign of George I

I particularly like the last one, as the prospect of an English king who speaks only German has a high comedy factor. Get Ricky Gervais involved and you've got a hit on your hands.

But what's the storyline?

2008-09-07T22:05:00.002-05:00

That sullen, sunken sound in Al Michaels' voice somehow makes it all worthwhile.

Are you ready for it, the football?

2008-09-04T14:45:00.008-05:00

I need hardly remind you that the 2008 NFL season begins tonight in the new millennium fashion with a Thursday contest: Redskins/Giants. Seems like just yesterday that the last season ended, you say? Well, it was less than seven months ago that Erika and I braved a blizzard to catch the breathtaking action of Patriots/Giants at Russ and Mary's. Yea, and the beer did flow freely. (I drank Brooklyn Lager.)

Too soon? Never, says I. Football can never come back too soon. Baseball is the king of games; hockey the prince — but football is the strongman with the army on his side. And that army is 100 divisions deep with pickup truck, Coors Light and IT equipment commercials in constant rotation from tonight till the second week of 02/09.

I've scoured a number of preseason primers, including Sports Illustrated's wonderfully exhaustive preview issue. SI's Dr. Z has the Pats besting the Eagles in Superbowl XLIII. It could happen, depending on the Eagle receiver situation. Interestingly, ESPN.com's Sports Guy, Bill Simmons didn't even have his hometown (Boston) team making it back to the big game. He went with … Jacksonville over Dallas? I don't know about that one. My pick is Dallas over San Diego. Yes, passing on the Pats is in season this season, though there's certainly no reason they couldn't win it all anyway.

Ideally, I'd be enjoying tonight's action with an Old Style tallboy and the company of old pal J. Stockton, but since he's flown the coop to New York, I'll have to fly solo … and sans booze. I'm still sick. But don't worry, our doctor phoned in an airstrike (antibiotic prescription), and that should put us on the mend. Who knows, maybe I'll have that Nyquil a little early tonight, too.

1-800-DIAL-A-COAT

2008-09-03T12:14:00.006-05:00

Geezus, it's cold in the Cracker Factory. I heard we hit the hottest mark of the year yesterday. You wouldn't know it today.

I can't tell if they're running the AC or if they turned it off and are piping in the cooler outside air, but I'd give just about anything for a coat or a jacket or a sweater right now. I just heated up my lunch, and I was warming my forearms over it. Wrong day to wear a short-sleeved button-up.

There are two chairs opposite my desk. Maybe I can skin them with a letter opener and use the rough fabric covers as a kind of pelt. Seems we're a little closer here today to nature's knife edge of survival than I thought. Might have to burn the Red Eye.